All That is Gold Does Not Glitter
by Mirrored Realities
Summary: Midoriya Izuku had it all; good grades, plenty of friends, and all the All Might memorabilia a kindergartner could want. But when he turned four, his world fell apart. He thought that he would be a hero no matter what Quirk he got. The world thought differently.
1. And the World Spins Madly On

"Listen up!" an aging man with a stack of papers barks, silencing the classroom, "You guys are a year away from high school, so you better start thinking about your future. I _would _hand out career aptitude tests… But I know you all wanna be heroes!"

The class erupts at this announcement, showing off a slew of flashy Quirks. "Yeah, yeah; you all have amazing 'Individualities', but keep a lid on it when your outside."

"Please, don't lump me in with _these _walk-ons," a voice cuts through the clamor; its owner, a student with dirty blond hair and scarlet eyes, leans back in his chair before continuing with, "You and I _both _know they can't measure up to _me_!"

This declaration was, naturally, met with an even bigger outburst. Though the teacher asking, "Oh yeah, you're applying to U.A., right Bakugou?" turns it into a dull murmur.

Their whispers of "_Doesn't Yuuei have a ninety nine percent fail rate this year?_" and "_Of course he'd go for Yuuei, his Quirk is perfect for heroics,_" only go to fuel his overconfident smirk.

"Of course I am," he says, "I _am _the best, after all."

"Feet off the desk, Bakugou-" he picks up a stack of papers from his desk. "-But anyway, we still have to do these,"

At the third outcry from his class, he sighs. "Look, don't blame me for this, the district wants all students to take them. I'd get fired if you don't."

The class is filled with a cloud of grumbling as he passes them out. Once finished, he sits back down at his desk, a single unused exam being added to the general clutter covering his desk.

And in the back of the room sits a lone desk, just as empty as the day before.

* * *

"Damn it!" He rushes through the sewers, clawing at the overhanging pipes and railways to pull him forward.

How could this have happened? It was supposed to be a simple job, just grab some money and run. Why did All Might have to show up? _How _did he show up? He was supposed to be in America! There was even a report about him _in _America just this morning!

A burst of wind hits him from behind. Shit, he's running out of time. He looks around frantically, spotting a manhole cover just above his head.

He rushes to it, a sludge-like fist bursting through it with the rest of him flooding through shortly after. He was in a tunnel now, and panic begins to overtake him because there was _nothing! _He can't find anything he could possibly use for cover, not with his size, anyway.

Maybe he could leave some pieces here? Sure, it would be a pain to try and make some more, but it was better than the alternative. But how much could he lose? If he wanted to b-

"**HAVE NO FEAR!**"

Shit! He's really starting to panic now. He looks around desperately, trying to find something, _anything _to put in between him and the hero

"**WHY?**"

There was nothing. Nothing he could use to hide.

"**BECAUSE I AM HERE!**"

In an act of desperation, he lashes out, launching several stone bearing tenderals of viscous sludge at the symbol of peace. One final act of defiance that was blown away with a single punch, along with the rest of his body.

All Might, thinking quickly, empties a bottle of soda he had on him and used them to contain the thief. A job well done, he made sure he was alone before reverting back to his true form.

Yagi Toshinori left the underpass, his body heavy with exhaustion but mind light knowing that he stopped the villain before he could hurt anyone.

And behind him sits the underpass, remaining as empty as it was the day before.

* * *

He feels a headache starting to form behind his eyes, an occurrence that he has gotten used to over the years. He hears a phone ring in the other room, a sound that he has come to associate with the previously mentioned pain.

He sees nothing.

He is writing, he feels the words flowing from his hand with ease, despite his disdain at its contents. He hears a voice calling out from beyond his room. "Izuku!" it says, "We've got customers!" He sighs, quickly finishing with the paragraph he was on and setting down his pencil.

He sees nothing.

He closes his notebook, lifts it off of the desk, and holds it out to his door in a single, practiced motion. He feels his chair shake with each heavy footsteps that approaches his room. He hears the door opened, a faint squeak coming from the hinges as whoever was outside entered. "I need you to-oh," the voice cuts itself off, footsteps making its way further into the room to reach him.

He sees nothing.

He feels the notebook being pulled from his hand. There's a gruff, "Thanks," before more footsteps go to the door.

"C-close it on your w-way out-Please," he mutters, his voice horse from disuse.

"Right," he hears the voice answers back, along with the usual squeak of his door closing.

He sees nothing.

He sighs, moving over to his bed and falling backwards into it. He knows that entry was half-assed, especially with who they were going to meet. He reaches to his face, feeling the rough cloth that covers his eyes. This is met by his head giving a particularly painful throb. He sighs again, already wishing to take more of his medication.

His hand clenches at his blindfold, he'll just take some after, he thinks. Ripping the bandana off his face gives the brief impression that his head was splitting.

And then it's gone; no pain pumping through his head, no terrible guilt curtling in his stomach, none of the things that makes his life so miserable. He sighs, knowing it can't last. He has things to do, afterall.

He feels eternity at his fingertips, the eons flowing through his hands like grains of sand. He hears a thousand lifetimes pass him by, the whispers of eternity washing over him.

And he sees… _**everything.**_


	2. March to the Sea

Not all men are created equal.

Some, or most, really, are born into normalcy. Normal Quirk, normal family, normal life, never to leave the small slice of the world they call their life. Others are born into greatness, with abilities far exceeding those around them. They go on to stitch their name into the history books, becoming an inspiration for good and bad alike. Others still are born into less. Be it from a poor family background, a weak Quirk, or no Quirk at all, the world has already deemed them lesser than those around them.

Izuku is that second one.

"_Observable Prescience,_" the doctors called it. Open his eyes, and live through the future. He had learned early that, despite the already mind boggling capabilities that explanation gives it, it could be so, _so _much more.

Yes, he couldn't look at people anymore, lest they experience the same thing he did, but to him? The pros outweighed the cons _tenfold_.

Bank robbery? Just move some trash cans around, block enough spots for their getaway vehicle for them to put it in the direct path of a hero. Flash flood? Call in a villain attack beforehand. By the time the heroes realized there wasn't a villain, they'd already have to help with the flood. Supervillains? He could stop them before they even became one just by _standing in the right spot_. All of this, and he hadn't even scratched the surface of possibilities.

Kind of ironic, how little it mattered in the end.

There was a fire, the kind that got too big too fast to be stopped. The entire apartment building was flaming before the fire department even got there. His room, his home… his mom. It all burned. In the end, the only one who was left were his and his dad.

It took him far too long to notice the connection.

It started slow, at first. He'd be asked about the future, something small, like tomorrow's morning news. "You've got a strong Quirk, son," Hisashi would say, "You've gotta keep using it if you wanna get stronger."

Then he'd started asking smaller details, "What happens on tomorrow's news? A villain attack, you say, what happened? He got caught, well that's good! Do you know what he could'a done to get away? Why am I asking? Well, if you're going to be a hero one day, you need to think of all of the possibilities! Can't have bad guys outsmarting you now, can we?"

He still can't get over how easily he was tricked with that one. It's humiliating even when considering how young he was at the time. By the time he realized what was actually happening, Hisashi had become too dangerous to be stopped. He had-

Izuku jolts, his body seizing at the several thousand volts pumping through his body. When it stops, he slumps down, rubbing at the bulky collar on his neck. If he were to remove his blindfold, he'd see an almost unhealthily thin man lazily pointing a remote at him while watching U.A.'s Second Year Sports Festival.

Almost every news outlet would tell you that this man is to be avoided at all costs. Most know him as Blowtorch, a practically untouchable super villain whose exploits turn away even the most dedicated of heroes. Others call him Warkasi Hisashi, extravagant playboy billionaire with a penchant for drug fueled parties. But only Izuku knows him as Dad.

"Mutterings a bad habit, Izuku, you need to break it," he drawls, not turning away from the screen.

Izuku wasn't muttering, he knew, as that _was _a habit he broke long ago. He doesn't say anything, though, knowing he's only looking for reasons to flaunt his control over him.

"Hmm… tell me, who's gonna win this year?" he asks, deeming to take his eyes off the screen to look at Izuku.

Izuku sighs, easily seeing it as the order it is rather than the request he disguised it as. "G-give me a m-moment," he responds, pulling himself off of the stained couch.

"Where are you going?"

"O-oh… I don't want t-to risk p-pu-pulling you in w-with me-Sir," he answers, unable to suppress a shudder at the unbidden memories starting to rise.

_A brief glance at Hisashi's newest client. The agonized cries of a man who's seen too much. The furious roars of those surrounding him._

_The blinding pain of his hand charing. The sickening pops of his skin searing. The mocking sneer of his father's laughing._

"Izuku, I told you not to call me that. Makes me feel old."

"R-right, sorry d-dad." Izuku stammers, making to leave again.

"And stop stuttering, it's unbecoming."

"Y-yes si-dad," he winces at the blunder; despite how much is riding on this, he still can't help but dread the consequences of disobedience. He doesn't try to suppress the stutter, though. It needs to sound believable, afterall.

He doesn't feel the collar go off, so he leaves before Hisashi starts feeling chatty. In reality, he already knows who's going to win, having seen it several days prior. He learned early on that it was far too risky to go through life not knowing what was going to happen. Not here, anyway.

He lets himself slide down a wall, gripping at the blindfold he wears to stop any more accidents with his Quirk. He's not worried about keeping up appearances, having done this enough times to know no one will bother him.

He can feel it; the fraying at the edges of his mind. The lines of thought abruptly cut off by an indistinct _something _that he can't quite put his finger on. The throbbing numbness just behind his eyes. He's starting to fade, and there's still so much he needs to do.

A particularly big pulse pushes the deadened feeling further through him. Maybe he could get a quick break in? Just long enough for him to be able to regain a little coherency. Then he'd get back to…

A memory, unbidden, fills his thoughts.

"_Ten dead in bank robbery gone wrong. The supervillain, Blowtorch, strikes again at a local bank, holding several hostages while two unknown villains broke into the vault and stole millions. Though promising to leave the civilians unharmed if given a getaway vehicle, several were found to have been executed upon his leave…"_

Izuku remembers that. The moment Hisashi decided to let his cruelty spread to his job. The moment that cemented him as an official supervillain.

The moment he promised to escape.

"Izuku? You alright?" Hisashi's voice cuts through his thoughts.

'_Just a little longer.'_

"I-I'm coming!" Izuku calls back, pushing himself off of the wall and pointedly ignoring the nothingness slowly filling his head.

He walked back in, stiffly sitting beside his dad as the announcer roared something he didn't quite catch. An uneasy silence filled the room, the constant drone of the TV the only source of noise before Hisashi gives an impatient "So?"

"Wh-Oh, t-the winner, r-right. Th-" He stiffens suddenly as another round of jolts come from his collar.

"Stuttering," he reprimands, not even glancing away from the screen.

He resists the urge to point out the irony of trying to keep someone from stuttering by electrocuting them, and instead lets out a slow "… Mirio… Togata," being extra careful to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Right, thanks."

Another long silence, another bout of anxiety fueled doubts.

"Well it's boring if I know how it'll end." Despite knowing it was coming, Izuku tenses anyway. "Here," Hisashi says, standing up as he tosses the remote to his son, "Find us something to watch."

Izuku listens to him walk away, straining his ears until he's sure he's gone before getting to work. He makes sure to switch the channel _before _starting- '_Don't want another repeat of last time.' _-and proceeds to flip the controller over.

"Izuku!" '_Fuck! He wasn't supposed to say anything until he got back! He shouldn't be back already! Did I remember to hide the beers behind the milk this time? Oh fuck what if I forgot, I can't-' _"You want anything?"

He strains his ears, but can't hear him walking back. '_Just a deviant,' _Izuku thinks with a shuddering sigh. "N-no thank you!" he calls back, quickly pulling off the battery cover, sliding it up his sleeve before setting it face up on the couch.

"Ooh, I haven't seen this one in a while," Hisashi says as he comes back, falling back into his seat.

They fall into yet another silence, this one much longer than the others, only broken by the low din of the television and Hisashi's offhand comments that Izuku doesn't have to respond to. He lets himself fall into an almost sleep like trance, only focusing on the static slowly encroaching on his mind.

This is the worst part, Izuku thinks. Not talking to the psychopaths that often walk the halls of the overly big mansion Hisashi owns, trying to appeal to whatever illogical logic they follow, or trying to discreetly steal things that only he could have a use for. It's the moments in between, the moments of quiet where his only companion is a cacophony of fear and doubts, telling him to stop, that he could leave everything be and it'll all be fine, that this is _just good enough_.

He ignores them, like always, but it's harder with a head full of cotton.

Eventually, blessedly, Hisashi takes Izuku back to his room, dropping some cheap gas station burger that one of his cronies bought on his desk on his way out. It's only after several hours, what felt like days to him, that he feels comfortable enough to get to work. He carefully takes the tin foil wrapping off of the long cold burger, robotically eating it as he folds and tears the foil into carefully sized pieces.

The collar was something Hisashi had spent millions on developing. It had to be perfect in order to properly contain its intended wearer. Anti-tampering measures would set it off if someone tried to remove it without deactivating it first. A proximity field was set around his room to keep him from leaving, with similar anti-tampering measures to keep those in place. There were enough spare parts in the collar for him to basically be wearing two of them, and all of it was covered in a single solid piece of steel. There was even multiple tracking devices spread throughout it, each more different and complex than the last. Truly, it was a perfect machine.

But not perfect enough.

He runs his hands through his hair, long and disheveled from disregard, and pulls out several more near identical squares of foil. Those are wrapped in several pre-prepared places around his door frame, blocking whatever sensors caused the collar to go off if he tried to leave, while the new ones from his dinner went around his collar, serving to both double block the proximity field and scatter whatever trackers were in there.

He was on the clock, now. It was only a matter of time before Hisashi noticed his signal had disappeared and sent someone to check on him.

Izuku slid the back of the remote between the collar's electrodes and his skin, being extra careful not to pull too hard and set it off. Now, all that was left was the door.

He pulls an unwound paperclip out of the heel of his shoe, twisting it to shape before pushing it into the lock of his door. A quiet click from it told him he'd unlocked it. "Four more," he mumbles absentmindedly.

He pulls out the numerous notebooks he had accumulated over the years and, with a heavy heart, begins destroying his life's work. Nearly a decade of priceless analyses were shredded, and the scraps flushed using his bedroom's bathroom. Not all of them, though, he wasn't stupid enough to ignore just how much Quirks are able to pull off. Some went with him, crammed into pockets with future plans to discard them in more discreet places.

By the time he was done, all that was left were the wire spirals that kept them together. Those were untwisted and retwisted into something resembling a hook, before being pushed through the crack in the door.

He slowly scrapes it along the door, twisting it until he feels them connect with something protruding from the wall. The deadbolt, from the feel of it.

Then he unlocks the four remaining locks, sliding the chain out of the deadbolt, jamming the padlock into the doorframe to get the leverage to work at it, all things that most would find impossible to do normally, much less under a time limit.

Luckily, Izuku had practice.

Just as the last lock clicks open, he throws opens the door, quick enough to make the man about to open it himself flinch back. It is this moment that will make or break him

Izuku charges the man, hoping beyond hope that the villain does the same.

Which he does.

Izuku, despite malnourishment making him much smaller than a boy his age should be, has been around too many dangerous people to not know how to fight them. He headbutts the man with a running start, aiming just below his ribcage.

He knows this won't be enough to take him down, that even with a liver shot, and the running start, he was just too small to do any real damage. But listening to the rasping gasp the man takes, he allows himself to grin. Yes, if he had a running start, he wouldn't have done much.

But the villain had one too.

Izuku is thrown back into the room, the only thing that kept him from breaking his own neck being his bulky collar, but he did it. The man hits the ground, struggling to take in a breath as he clasps his chest, trying to find some relief for the agony he is now undoubtedly in.

Izuke doesn't allow himself to celebrate, ignoring the much different kind of static spreading through his head as he scrambles to his feet and sprints out of the room

He runs blindly, the blindfold negating any sight that would be gained from the moonlight filtering through the windows. It doesn't matter, though; he's lived here long enough to be able to make this run with his eyes closed.

'_Which,' _Izuku sighs, '_Is exactly what I'm doing.'_

His path is wild and incomprehensible to the outside viewer. For him, however, it's the perfect balance of speed, stealth and efficiency that allows him to avoid any unfortunate meetings with the building's residents.

Turning into a seemingly random room, he jumps, tucking his head under his arms and turning his body parallel to the ground. As glass shatters around him, he hears an alarm start to blare from somewhere in the mansion.

Izuku hits the ground and rolls, his only injuries being a number of small cuts running up his forearms. He doesn't slow as he runs to the wall, hitting it full tilt and using his momentum to easily climb to the top.

Then it hits him

For the first time in almost a decade, he's outside. Air, not choked up by the scent of cheap beer and cigarettes, but real, _clean _air. In the distance, he could hear the sound of a city he never set foot it. He was out. _He was out!_

So having to jump back down, back to the hellish place he'd been forced to live in for the better half of his life, was almost harder than getting up there to begin with.

He knows it's too dangerous to run now. Dozens of villains were already pouring out of the mansion, already heading to where he's at. The trail of broken glass, paired with the cuts on his arms smearing blood all up the wall, would lead them to the obvious conclusion. He has no doubt Hisashi would demand everyone go to the nearby city to look for him, giving Izuku free reign to loot the house as he pleases.

And they do. Hidden in the bush, just outside the window he'd jumped out of, he sees Hisashi. Having forced Izuku to do the thinking for him for his entire criminal career, he doesn't stop to contemplate beyond what's in front of him.

Just like Izuku predicted, he roared for his lackies to go to the city, to bring Izuku back. None of them are willing to defy him, so they go without question.

They leave in droves, emptying the mansion in under ten minutes, an impressive time had anyone but Hisashi told them to do it.

Izuku goes back into the building, ransacking the place of everything he'd need to start a new life. When he leaves, he goes out of the front door, knowing full well of all of the security cameras he's passing to do so. He doesn't care. '_Let them see me,' _he thinks, '_It's the last chance they'll get.'_

He doesn't go to the city he's so desperately wanted to run to for his entire life, instead turning around, and marching into the countryside.

He doesn't let himself feel excited, not wanting to jinx himself and summon any of his dad's goons from wherever they might be. He walks in a trance, clutching the shopping bags full of supplies to his chest as he goes.

He only stops when he feels the first rays of sunlight hit his face, the first rays of sunlight he's gotten in years.

Finally, he lets himself fall, legs that barely walk the length of the building in a week screaming from overexertion.

He'd done it.

He cries, gripping the bags tighter as silent sobs ripple through his body, letting tears he's held back for far to long flow freely.

* * *

Tears that don't stop when he comes back.

The blank nothingness that filled his head exploded into a torrent of agony, enough pain to have been blinding if he had opened his eyes.

But that's not why he cries. He was out, if only for a few hours, if only in some blissfully wonderful fantasy cooked up by his Quirk, he was out.

And now he was back. Back in this room, in this _house_. Only years of practice keeps him from screaming out into his darkened room, from tearing apart the jail cell his father dared to call a home.

He lets himself be devoured by the pain from Quirk exhaustion, if only to drown out the agony of his confinement.

'_Tomorrow,' _he thinks as he blacks out, '_I leave tomorrow.'_


	3. When Everything Goes Wrong

He was wrong.

In the oppressive, all encompassing, _suffocating _storm that made up his thoughts, that was the only thing that stayed long enough to be acknowledged. He was wrong. Years filled with preparations, even longer filled with fear and self loathing, migraine after seizure after bloody migraine and for what? For Hisashi to suddenly decide that after nearly a decade of his torturous 'family bonding,' that today would be when he'd take a day off. And Izuku…

He didn't know what he was feeling.

He's had escape plans fail before they even began in the past, and each time was yet another blow to his already frayed mind. Each yet another reason to give into the path his father has laid out for him.

But this was different.

This failure, this… this… _tragedy,_ was the only thing he could describe it as. So much had gone into this, so much of _him _had gone into this. Everything he'd done, every day he'd survived, it was all for this. To _escape _the nightmare that had become his life. To finally leave this hellhole and just watch as Hisashi burns everything Izuku made for him to the ground.

And then to… not do that. To wake up in the morning and have to do the _same _thing he's _been _doing? To have to _keep _working for that _bastard, _keep building him the empire he's done _nothing _to deserve, keep giving him the _world _and getting _nothing _in return but-

_~CRACK~_

'_And there goes another one,' _Izuku thinks bitterly, throwing a third broken pencil in the small trash can next to his desk. He's going to have to ask Hisashi for more.

With a shaky sigh, he begins rummaging through his desk for a spare, absentmindedly holding the half-finished analysis to the door.

"Izuku," Hisashi starts as he opens the door. Right on time, too, because of _course _he's punctual _now_. "I nee-Oh." He cuts himself off, taking a moment to readjust himself before taking the book. "Damn, I need to get used to that."

"Get used to what?" asks raspy voice that Izuku barely suppresses a grimace at.

Of course it would be Shigaraki. Of course they (They, because he knows _damn well _that this man child isn't the one in charge) didn't send someone more _reasonable, _like Giran, or Kurogiri_._

Shigaraki was, in every sense of the word, a spoiled brat. But he wasn't just any spoiled brat, he was a _psychotic _spoiled brat. Paired with a Quirk Izuku wouldn't trust most _sane _people with and far too much power for someone of his mental state, he becomes the perfect cocktail of everything he _doesn't need to be dealing with right now_.

"It's his Quirk," '_no no nO NO N-' _"He can basically see the future. He probably knows everything we're about to tell him."

'… _Fuck,' _Izuku doesn't try to resist the grimace at that, wilting under the intense half-glare Shigaraki levels at him. Despite his lack of sight, even he can see just how fine a line his father just put him on.

"You can see the future?" he asks, the crazed lilt in his voice now replaced with something far more unnerving.

And now his day just got a lot more complicated. Shigaraki came with many emotions, most of which could be prefixed with the word "Violently." Anger, at some slight, imagined or otherwise, was easy to redirect. Greed, which only really happened after seeing his notebooks, was something Izuku avoided entirely by hiding those under the dirty mattress he uses as a bed.

_Interest_, however, was by far the worst. It meant that he wanted to know more, that he'd ignore the knee jerk reactions that Izuku relies on to survive this encounter. Not until he learned what he wanted, at least.

'_Keep him busy, downplay your abilities, talk him in circles,'_ he repeats in his head like a mantra, because, despite the ridiculous number of times he ran through this conversation in the relatively short time he had, he could never find a reliable way through this part.

"W-well, only tec-technically, sir," Izuku begins, really leaning into his stutter. '_No reason to play fair at this point.' _"I-I can only s-see the p-possibilities."

"Possibilities?"

"Y-yes, I-I just ch-choose the most l-likely p-path. B-But it has to be p-possible, and it's… it's n-not a-always accurate, s-so…"

"Choose… how?" Shigaraki asks and _wow, he's really close, isn't he?_

'_You can step in any time now, dad,' _Izuku thinks bitterly, before continuing. "S-Some things are m-more likely t-to happen th-than others…"

"So… what would that be?"

'_What would that…? Oh fuck!' _"Wh-What d-do you mean?" Izuku tries weakly, hoping beyond hope that Hisashi realizes what's going on and stops this, despite his abysmal social awareness making that particular wish a nigh impossibility.

"What I mean is, does it work? Does our plan work out?" Of course he'd ask that. The one thing he didn't have time to run through was why Shigaraki was here to begin with, and the last time he didn't know something… He barely suppressed a shudder. He'll just have to stumble through this, make sure he doesn't use any definite terms and hope- "Do we really kill All Might?"

"… You want t-to kill… k-kill… All Might?" Izuku whispers, too stunned to remember he was supposed to know this already. '_Hisashi, what the hell are you trying?'_

"Yes!" Shigaraki jumps up suddenly, pacing the room and gesturing wildly. "This system! This _world_! It's all flawed! It needs correction!

His voice drops into something low and dangerous,"And it's all built off of _him_. That damn All Might! Thinking he can just smile and make everything better. That bastard needs to be…"

Izuku tones out Shigaraki's tirade and just… _stares_. He wants to… kill All Might. The Symbol of Peace, a man who's abilities lie somewhere between "The entirety of the standing Japanese army," and "Every natural disaster, all at once." _That _All Might.

And he wants to… Izuku turns to stare blindly in Hisashi's direction. Shigaraki wants to kill All Might, and Hisashi _approves _it. One of the few men even Izuku can't even begin to hope to work around, and he just told a _third party _not only that he could_, _but that he could _kill him_.

He… He was supposed to leave today, he realizes suddenly. He was supposed to leave. Finally get back the life that was taken from him.

Then it hits him. He knows why this one was different. This plan wasn't just supposed to work. It _would _have worked. Hell, it _has _worked, he _saw _it, he lived through it! The only possible way for it to fail was if something else came up and stopped it before he could start!

And that something, the thing that ruined his chance for a real life, _his _life… was a fucking _suicide mission?!_

"So does it work?" Shigaraki cuts through his thoughts, and something clicks.

Shigaraki is too blinded by hate to see reason. Hisashi's too stupid to know his ass from a hole in the ground if it was labled for him.

And they'd both kill each other in a heartbeat if they thought it would benefit them.

"… M-Maybe?" Izuku forces out, his stutter and child-like voice doing and excellent job of masking the hate being poured into a new plan.

"'Maybe'?" Hisashi echoes, voice hardening with a dangerous undertone.

'_Game.' _"W-well it _is_ All Might we're t-talking about. H-he's not… n-not exactly an easy t-target."

"But you _can _do it, right?" Hisashi asks, but the silent "_You _will _do it" _is all too obvious.

'_Set.' _"… W-well, if I c-can t-take c-care of a few p-possibilities-"

"No," Hisashi shuts him down abruptly, "You're gonna make it happen wi-"

"What do you mean 'Take care of'?" Shigaraki cuts in.

'_Match." _"W-Well," Izuku starts, staunchly ignoring the glare he feels Hisashi giving him and forcing his face to not break into a victorious grin. "When I use m-my Q-Quirk, I c-can repeat the p-possibilities until I find a way t-to get th-the one I want."

"Repeat? As in, still with your Quirk, repeat?" Izuku nods. "And you can do that until you _know _we'll win." Not _we, _necessarily, but he still nods."So you could make it _impossible _for him to-"

"Not happening," Hisashi interrupts.

"What?! But he can make it _literally _impossible for us to lose!"

"I don't care, he's not leaving."

"We're paying you-"

"You're paying me to help _make _the plan, it's your job to do it." Hisashi drops the book back onto Izuku's desk, abruptly turning to leave without giving Shigaraki a chance to respond.

"You fucking-" Shigaraki starts to argue, but his words are cut off as he slams the door behind him.

And Izuku? He's already days ahead of them both.

* * *

The kid can see the future.

Of course, many people could see the future. Many more could change what they saw. But this kid, Izumu? Ikuzu? Whatever his name was, he could see the future, make changes to that future, and then see _that _future, _before ever leaving his Quirk_. That was… an unprecedented amount of power. Almost too much, given the criminal empire Warkasi, some criminal upstart with no real ambition, was able to make with it.

Needless to say, Shigaraki had to have him.

The initial attack went off without a hitch, which meant the kid either didn't see them coming, unlikely, or he hadn't ratted him out. Judging from the blindfold, burn scars, and completely terrified way he held himself, he didn't think he would have, but he still had his worries. Stockholm syndrome and all that.

Another grunt withered away under his hands, his shoes being dusted in his remains. He scowls; despite how well the raid was going, he still hated escort quests. Useful as he'll be, Shigaraki couldn't wait until they got out of the house's anti-warp zone so he could leave and complete this shitty sidequest.

"Finally," he groaned, turning a corner and laying eyes on the kid's room. "I swear, I've seen _castles _with less rooms."

Touching the door, he pushed his Quirk to its limits to-It's gone.

Shigaraki blinks owlishly as the cloud of dust floated to the floor. Really? _This _was the kind of defence he put around the only thing that made him any sort of threat? No Quirk resistant metal, no foot-thick bulkhead, but a _normal door?_

Honestly, he's doing him a favor by taking the kids off his hands.

Swiping away the last wisps of the door, he finally stepped through the entrance, and laying eyes on his target.

Jeez, he hasn't seen him for days and he _still _hasn't changed out of that oversized hoodie and pants he first saw him in. Wait, did he even have any other clothes? A quick scan of the room told him that, unless Hisashi's keeping them somewhere else, he didn't. Damn, yet another thing-

And then he was on the ground, scrawny arms wrapped around his midsection. Fucking brat tackled him. With a growl, he reaches for him. Not to kill him, no, but maybe he'll _inform _him of the… is he crying?

Fat, ugly sobs were muffled in his shirt, and quiet "Thank you,"s filled the spaces between his crying. This… wasn't what he expected. Violence? Sure, he'd believe that. Resignation? He was kind of banking on it, but he was prepared for other things. But relief? A crying mess of blubbering gratitudes? Should he… comfort him? Sensei did that for him, so he supposed that he should try it.

"It's… okay?" he mumbles, more of a question then anything. Careful to keep his pinky up, he softly laid his hand on the boy, patting his back-

Wait

"Motherfucker…" He had a collar. A large, heavy duty shock collar that would look more in place on one of those special Quirked guard dogs than on a kid. A quick glance at the door and, yep, there are the sensors.

Oh, he gets it now. The guards that Shigaraki could beat with one hand tied behind his back, the flimsy door, the big, intimidating fence that would fall over if you drive into it hard enough; they weren't there to keep people out. They were there to keep him in. Of course; abused, used, underfed, judging from the weight, and more powerful than Hisashi's entire gang combined. Of course Hisashi would put everything he had into keeping him in.

"Sir," Kurogiri begins, drawing him out of his thoughts, "As touching as this is, I believe we're overstaying our welcome."

"Fuck, right." Another touch, another crackle, and another one of Izuku's restraints falling away in a cloud of dust.

The kid gasps, feeling his now free neck and the-Jesus, were those scars?! How many volts was he pumping into this kid? "W-we're leaving?" the kid-Izuku! Right, that was his name-Izuku asks, almost in a whisper.

"Yeah," Shigaraki says as he pushes him off, rising to stand, "Grab your things… if you have anything."

"R-right." Quickly, Izuku starts moving around the room, collecting his depressingly small number of personal items.

"Fuck," Shigaraki whispers softly, "I didn't think it would be this bad."

"One never does until they meet them," Kurogiri starts, listening to the sounds of a distant battle pouring down the hallway. He contemplates for a moment, before deciding they have enough time for a small story. "We had a similar reaction when we found you, you know."

"Really?"

They delve into Shigaraki's cloudy childhood days, too distracted to notice the sudden stop to the crying.

Anger was an excellent motivator, Izuku thinks. Anger, and, admittedly, hunger induced recklessness, sure, '_Thanks for forgetting to feed me again, dad,'_ but he was _so close_. He hasn't gotten this far in the real world since Hisashi got his collar.

And _his collar! _He gingerly rubs his empty neck, revelling in how light it feels. He knew the collar would always be the biggest problem when he got out, but _it's gone!_ And the door that took him years of practice to get through reliably, that's also gone. And so are the guards, and the fence. Even _Hisashi _was gone, having ducked into the panic room at the first sign of trouble.

And all that's left are them. Two people, and he's gone. He just needs to… look at them…

_A brief glance at Hisashi's newest client._

One of his hands are on the rickety chair that came with his desk, while the other holds his blindfold. One tug, one push, and he's gone, he just… has… to…

_The agonized cries of a man who's seen too much._

He can do this, _he can do this_. He just has to _look_, it's not that hard… Just look at them… and their men… and Hisashi's men…

_The furious roars of those surrounding him._

No he can't. He can't do this. His hands fly away from their targets, disgust rising in his throat at what he was about to do to them.

_The blinding pain of his hand charing. The sickening pops of his skin searing. The mocking sneer of his father's laughing._

And _dad_. He told him he wasn't allowed to look at people any more! He'd be _furious _and he'd _hurt him _and-

"_Ten dead in a bank robbery gone wrong…"_

And… And he's not like him! He can't just go around _hurting _people who get in his way. That would make him no better tha-

"_Though promising to leave the civilians unharmed if given a getaway vehicle, several were found to have been executed upon his leave…"_

… No… He's… He can't do this.

His hands are set staunchly at his sides, his entire form tense, waiting for the two men to finish so that they can take him-

"_Well, if you're gonna be a hero one day, you need to think of all of the possibilities!"_

His breath hitches.

"_MOM!"_

No… The pain, the anger…

"_SAVE HER PLEASE!"_

None of it's enough to put them through that.

"_There's nothing we can do… "_

But he made a promise.

He tears the cloth from his eyes, reaching back to the chair. The two villains are too engrossed in their conversation to notice, but that's fine. They'd notice this.

He pushes it over, a sharp _~thunk~ _drawing the villain's attention.

Furious green eyes meet red and gold.

* * *

Those bastards betrayed him

That was all Hisashi could think of as he watched Shigaraki's men wreck his house. He growls as he watches one bleed out over his carpet. Don't they know anything about etiquette?! That rug was easily worth more than all of their lives combined and they just _ruined it_.

He holds the end of a cigarette to his mouth, lighting it with a huff before flipping it and putting the butt in his mouth. He had the money to replace it, don't get him wrong. In fact, he probably replaced that specific rug every other week do to ruining it _himself_, but it's the principal of the matter. Coming into _his _home, getting their blood all over _his _things. He 'ought to go out there himself to show them their place!

_~KZRRT~_

Hisashi's head shoots to a GPS screen. _The _GPS screen, the one he used to track Izuku if he ever were to get out.

The screen that showed nothing but a large "**ERROR**" in place of Izuku's location.

"Fuck!" he barked, quickly flipping through the cameras to get to Izuku's room. He has to look for a minute, seeing nothing but the back of his son, until he spots two shadows looming through the doorway. The doorway that he knew for a fact was locked before this happened.

He debates it for a moment. On one hand, they're definitely trying to take him. _Going _to, seeing how far they got already.

On the other, the only road out of here goes through the city, and seeing as the heroes there are on _his _payroll, they wouldn't get far.

Hisashi puffs smoke at the screen, leaning back and deciding it would be easier to let them go. Besides, whatever they do to him would be a good warm up for what _he'll _do for him for not warning him-

Izuku took off his blindfold.

Hisashi blinks, leaning forward to get a better look at him. Izuku pushes the chair over, the shadows' heads whipping up before freezing.

"That's my boy," he grins. He's seen what his Quirk does to other people, and judging by how long he's holding them there, those two are gonna have to be _dragged _out of there.

Maybe he'll go easy on him this time. After all, he _is _trying to fix it. Sure, he'll have to hit him some for looking at people, but he won't use the stove this time.

Then they fall, the two shadows finally being given bodies as they collapse, clawing manically at their eyes. "That'll teach ya'." He has no doubt their begging for a mercy they lost the chance to the second they trespassed on his property. He can't hear them, though. He got sick of Izuku's crying and took out the audio from that room years ago.

He sighs contently, leaning back again. _Finally _his son is toughening up. Took him long enough, too. Hisashi was beginning to think he'd have to start bringing people for him to practice on for him to finally get serious, with how timid he was.

But then _Izuku's_ on the floor, sobs racking his body and _Did he just puke?_

Never mind. He's _definitely _going to start bringing in people for him to practice on. Damn Inko, making his son go soft.

And now Izuku's leaving, still shaking like a leaf in the wind, but moving with a confidence he hasn't seen in him since they were in Musutafu. Hisashi's grin spreads wider. '_Good,' _he thinks '_Go teach those bastards some manners.' _He switches over to the entrance hall, his disdain for their treatment of his home now drowned out by the gratification he'll get at seeing them all _scream_.

He sighs contently, leaning back again. _Finally _his son is toughening up. Took him long enough, too. Hisashi was beginning to think he'd have to start bringing people for him to practice on for him to finally get serious, with how timid he was. Damn Inko, making his son go soft on him.

But… shouldn't he be here by now? It's been long enough for those two to stop yelling, or at least stop struggling, and he still hasn't got there. Maybe he should…

'_Nah.' _Hisashi spits the now spent butt on the floor, flicking another out of the box. '_Probly' just don't know where he's going, he never really-.'_

"Bitch!" he roars at the screen, cutting his own line of thoughts short. One of them just took down the chandelier! How do you even do something like that?! That thing has to be three stories up at the least!

'_That's it!'_ He stands suddenly, his chair getting thrown to the floor. He's gonna go _roast _those bastards! He could've bought another car with how much he put into that, and they just-

_**~BANG~**_

He whirls back to the screen. Guns? Really?! They brought…

… Maybe he'll let Izuku take care of them. After all, it _was _his fault they're here to begin with. If he had warned them beforehand, they'd have never made it past-

That's not one of Shigaraki's.

It was Izuku, a small handgun held to the sky, a wisp of smoking still encircling the muzzle. "Fuck yeah! Kick their asses!" Hisashi laughs, pulling his chair back up. _Everyone _was looking at him, all frozen in various stages of fighting. Well, everyone _did _include his own men, but he was gonna kill them anyway for letting them get this far.

And then they're _screaming_. His grin turns savage at the hellish choir's macabre song. Anyone who's brain didn't flatout shut down had begun clawing their own eyes out in some fruitless attempt to make whatever they saw stop.

Izuku begins picking his way through the bodies, giving the particularly wild victims a wide berth. Quick, efficient, and, most importantly, brutal. "Must be finally rubbing off on him," Hisashi mumbles, finally lighting the forgotten cigarette between his lips.

_That's _the type of son he wanted. Sure he's smaller than he'd prefer, made to look even shorter by the large duffel bag slung over his shoulder, but he more than made up for that with the sheer-

Izuku has a duffel bag.

Not just any duffel bag, though. It was the same one Shigaraki had paid him with a few days prior. The one Hisashi hadn't emptied yet.

The one holding _several billion yen_.

"Why would he…" His eyes are blown wide. Shigaraki just cut a path through his house, one that leads straight to Izuku's room.

He flips through the cameras again. They knocked down the gate, disintegrated both the front door and Izuku's door, killed all of his guards. There was even a trail of dust for Izuku to follow out. Izuku…

He planned this.

He _never _talked that much with any of his other clients. Sure, he'd let _them_ talk to _him_, if only to watch him squirm, but he never talked _back_. He _knew _they'd want to take him for themselves, and purposely overshared to get to do it.

And they did.

Of course they did. He knew they would! He-That!

"_You ungrateful little shit!_" Hisashi bellows. He's gonna _fry _that fucker! Thinking he can just walk away with _his _money! He snatches the shock collar remote off the desk-

_~Click~_

-and _holds it there_.

Five, ten, fifteen seconds. The guy who made it said it'd cause permanent damage if he went any longer than two, but _he didn't care_. He's gonna be _begging _for the collar once… he's…

Slowly, almost robotically, he turns to the GPS screen. The one displaying the massive "**ERROR**" in place of coordinates. It was almost like…

He glances back to the screen, seeing his son walk right out the front door.

The _disintegrated _front door.

Oh, _now _he's gonna get it! That collar cost him a _fortune! _He jumps up, chair tumbling to the floor again.

"_MAKE IT STOP!"_

But he stops.

His eyes are drawn to the writhing figures on the monitor, both his and Shigaraki's men alike. All screaming their lungs out. That… _Izuku _did that. All of it.

… Wait, what was he thinking?! He was _Blowtorch! _His hand wraps around the door knob, about to throw open the door to his hidden room with righteous fury filling him. As if he's intimidated by some snot nosed-

"_ANYONE!"_

His body betrayed him as he turns back, unable to pull his eyes away from the bloodbath.

Suddenly, one of his men launches to his feet. '_Moonfish,' _his mind supplies. One of his more reliable people. Good fighter, if a few strange fetishes.

His head shakes like a rabid dog, teeth growing down to the floor and lifting him up. "_MEAT!" _he screeches, his teeth tearing towards one of the fallen. Hisashi doesn't know which side, his mind too far away because he was _eating him_.

The image flickered out with a haunting finality, and he finally remembers to blink. During his stupor, he had somehow walked back to the desk and shut the cameras off.

Some part of him objected, saying they needed to keep watching Izuku to see which direction he goes. But the rest of him heaved the idea of seeing that _thing _Moonfish was reduced to. He'll need to… punish Izuku for this. Definitely. _This _was the reason he took his seeing privileges.

He ignores the part of his mind reminding him that the last time this happened the man had only had a small seizure.

But… he… he needed to find him… and he… Well, he certainly can't be expected to go do it _himself_. Yeah, of course! What was he, some shitty gang banger?! Of course he wouldn't lower himself to that level.

Pulling out his phone, he spat out the stick of ash that he'd been huffing on. He'll get the cannon fodder to find Izuku, he has far more important matters to see to.

And if he just so happened to forget that most of his clients were probably feeding Moonfish by now, well, that's just a happy coincidence.

"One-one-nine, what's your emerg-"

"This is Warkasi, I need to speak with the Commissioner."


	4. The Entire World at Your Feet

Hisashi Warkasi was the supervillain Blowtorch.

Naomasa Tsukauchi knows this for a fact. Actually, any detective worth their salt would know this for a fact. If any one who even heard of Hisashi in passing were called in to give testimony at his trial, he'd be in Tartarus within the hour.

The only problem was the actual trial part.

Officers bribed into compliance, accomplices threatened into silence, evidence tampered with to the point of unusability, if not outright destroyed. By the time they go to announce his trial, there wasn't enough of anything left to actually charge him with.

Which is why having a gang war happen _in his house_, with well over half of his inner circle _still there_ by the time Naomasa arrived, should have been a gold mine.

While yes, there was no evidence of a fire Quirk used, it was still an open and shut case. The number of big names alone would be enough to get Hisashi tried as an accomplice, which in turn would be enough to get a warrant for a mind reading Quirk to get involved, which would then lead to him finally getting outed for the criminal he is. After nearly a decade of terrorizing Japan, they-no, not they. Naomasa wouldn't trust half of the cops here as meter maids, much less with a case this big. After nine years of large scale bank robberies, mass murdering, and being a general thorn in Naomasa's side, he finally has him.

"MEAT!"

But there were more important things to deal with.

Moonfish, legal name Shuhei Matsuda, was one of the numerous A-Ranking villains they pulled out of the house. He alone would have been worth an investigation into Hisashi's involvement, as he was one of the most dangerous criminals on the streets today.

Operative word being was.

Of course, he was still plenty dangerous, and his newly developed psychotic cannibalism would definitely be a more effective fear factor than his previous mind games but he just… _wasn't there_.

None of the infuriatingly clever banter, no mocking laughs when presented with his expansive list of victims, he was just _gone_.

Not as gone as most of the people they pulled out of there, however. With the exception of Hisashi himself, he had the most sanity out of the lot.

Which would have been saying something even _before _his sudden paradigm shift.

Half of the criminals had to be strapped down to keep themselves from mutilating themselves further than they already did. The other half aren't only because they had already bleed out from their wounds or were literally too braindead to move.

All of this meant that, unfortunately, Warkasi and Moonfish were the only ones able to be interrogated, and with Hisashi feigning shock, Naomasa was stuck with Moonfish.

Schooling his features, he pulled the door open and entered the small room, forcing his face to remain neutral even as Moonfish turned a muzzled and bandaged face towards him.

It seems even he wasn't spared from the self mutilation.

"Matsuda-kun, I'm here to-"

"Tsukauchi!" Moonfish cut him off, deranged irritation dripping off his voice, "You're early!"

"I-I'm sorry?" Naomasa asks, racking his brain because _when did he learn my name?_

"You should be! You shouldn't have been here for _minutes!_"

"W-" He clears his throat, shoving his discomfort to the side as he takes a seat. "Well, I'm here now. I'll be asking you a few questions. Now-"

"Of course you can record our talk! What kind of detective _doesn't _record interrogations?!"

"… Right. Well, do you-"

"It wasn't Hisashi," Moonfish cuts in suddenly, the sudden clarity in his voice shaking him to the core.

"What?"

"The one who did this, you were going to ask if it was Hisashi. It's not."

"Wha-That's not what I was going to a-"

"No, of course you weren't! You were _supposed _to ask if I saw who did it! But you _wanted _to ask if it was Hisashi, didn't you?"

"And why would I ask that?" Naomasa huffed, ignoring the fact that that was exactly what he was going to do.

"Because you're _so close,_" Moonfish answers, a mad desperation filling his voice again, "You've been chasing Blowtorch for _nine years! _Of course you'd want to know if _today _is when you get him!"

Naomasa… His involvement with the case never went public. The only way for someone to know that is if they had-

"Of course there's a mole in the Blowtorch case, he has moles _everywhere_," Moonfish says, as if reading his mind, "Sweet, delicious moles, all full of blood and _meat_! But… he didn't share any with me, and I thought we were _friends_, too… "

"Then you _do _know Blowtorch?" he snaps back, latching onto Moonfish's near admittance to his involvement.

"Of course I do! _Everyone _knows him! Why are you asking me, though? You already know _that_."

"Then who is he?" Naomasa jumps up, leaning over the table. If he's too far gone to care about Hisashi's threats, then maybe he can finally-

"Ah, ah, ah! You know I can't tell you that."

"And why not?"

"It's not _time _yet, detective! You're still far too early!"

"Wha-You won't tell me because I got here a few minutes early?!" Naomasa asks, flabbergasted.

"_Minutes?!_" Moonfish barks out a laugh, "You're _years _away from _that! _A few miles, too. You have find _him _first!"

Naomasa bristles, a snappish response just on the tip of his tongue before he stops. '_Right, he's crazy.'_ He sits back down with a sigh. "… Find _who _first?" he asks after regaining his composure.

"Warkasi!"

He blinks, "Warkasi… As in, Hisashi Warkasi. I have to find _him?_"

"_No!_" Moonfish cries, throwing himself over the table, the only thing stopping him from pouncing of the detective being the thin handcuff chaining him down. "Not _that _Warkasi. The _other _Warkasi, the _little _Warkasi!"

'_A younger brother, perhaps?' _Marking that down as a question to ask Hisashi during his interrogation, Naomasa continues, "And where is he now? Is he still in the mansion?"

"Still in the mansion?!" he barks out a laugh, rocking in his chair, "_Of course not! _There are far too many things to do to stay in the mansion! Places to be, things to do! _People to eat!_"

He's about to dispute the people eating part, when he remembers that if he _was _in the mansion, it was a very real possibility if he also encountered whoever did this to Moonfish. '_Put out public warning on deranged villains,' _he circles on his clipboard. "And… How do you know all of this?"

"He _showed_ me."

"He… showed you?"

"Yes! He showed me! He showed me _all _of it! So many things! So many people! So much _meat!_"

"Okay," '_Possible mole?' _Naomasa wrote under the Warkasi brother part. "What else did he show you?"

"What did he show me? _What did he show me?!_" he howled with laughter, "Oh Tsukauchi."

Moonfish leans forward, staring eyelessly into him as his face split into a blood stained smile. "He showed me… _Everything_."

* * *

_Name__: Naomasa Tsukauchi_

_Occupation__: Detective/Head of the police side of the Blowtorch case_

_Description__: Naomasa is approximately 180 cm tall, w/ black hair and black eyes. While on duty, he is often wearing a tan trench coat, and a black hat, though rarely wears anything affiliating him with his job._

_Quirk__: Lie Detector - His Quirk allows him to know whether someone he's speaking with is lying or not. He has a license to use this for his job, making him incredibly useful in his field of work._

_Weakness__: Despite his Quirk, or perhaps even due to it, Naomasa is incredibly gullible. As long as his Quirk doesn't tell him it's a lie, he will take anything told to him at face value. If encountered, I should use misdirection and omission to direct his attention elsewhere. As long as he thinks I'm telling the truth, he won't look any further into it._

* * *

Mirai Sasaki, otherwise known as the hero Sir Nighteye, steepled his fingers as the interrogation recording was shut off with a resounding _~click~_

With him were the other three leaders of the Blowtorch case; Detective Naomasa, the head of the police portion of the investigation; Nezu, the lead analyst; and Endeavor, who was leading the Blowtorch combat response force. He himself was in charge of the intelligence and covert operation side of the case.

"So… what? You brought us all here to show off an interview with a madman?" the number two hero asks haughty, arms crossed and face wreathed in flame.

"Everything he said was true," Naomasa says, ignoring Endevor's quip, "So unless Blowtorch was both lying to his men _and _do… whatever this was to them, on the off chance that one of them stays coherent enough to tell us, which I doubt, then we know why we haven't caught him yet.:

The group is silent, each of them contemplating the information in their own way.

"Surely you aren't accusing us of working for _him, _Detective," Endeavor growls after a moment.

"No, actually. I'm telling you three because you're the only ones I'm sure _aren't _working for him."

"Well," Nezu pipes up, "A mole would certainly make the most sense."

"It would certainly explain why he's always a few steps ahead of us," Nighteye adds, a bead of frustration rising in him as he remembers the seemingly omniscient way Blowtorch always outmaneuvers his Foresight Quirk.

"Why are bothering to tell us this?" Endeavor scoffs, "Don't you already have Warkasi in custody? Go use your Quirk to figure out who it is.

Naomasa sighs, "I've told you that's not how it works, Todoroki-kun. And besides, he lawyered up the second he got ahold of a phone. They're threatening a lawsuit if we '_Torment a traumatized man any further than he's been'_," he rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Of course he has," Nighteye groans, rubbing his temples, "And you couldn't get any names out of Moonfish?"

"Not anymore than we already have."

"Then we need to find them ourselves," Nezu declares, his beady eyes glinting dangerously.

"What do you mean 'we'? Sasaki's the one in the intelligence group-" Endeavor points to Nighteye. "-he should do it."

'_And here we go again,' _Nighteye sighs. "For the last time, Todoroki-kun, I can't do _all _of the thinking here, you need to work too."

"And why not? That's the only thing you have to do."

"_Because,_" he starts, fighting down a long suffering sigh, "I have several dozen different leads I need to follow up on at any given time, several hundred people that could be a double agent, _and _my own agency to run."

"Then have your team do it, that's what they're there for."

"The whole point of this meeting was to tell us to _not _trust our teams."

"Just have them follow your 'several dozen leads,' then."

"I _just _said we can't trust the-"

"Gentlemen, please," Nezu cuts in, his unusually serious tone silencing them both. "We're already low on allies as is, let's not bicker between each other."

"Nezu is right," Naomasa adds, "We don't know who we can trust right now. We need to focus on finding whoever's working for Blowtorch. Seeing how each of us are already heading a separate division, we should focus on searching our groups."

Endeavor gives him a deadpan stare, and an equally deadpan response. "… You can't be serious. We already _have _him, what's the point in looking for someone who won't matter in a few weeks?"

"That's exactly what you said the _last _time we 'Had him.' We could have crippled him if we didn't let his partners get away."

"Last time we didn't have a _gang war _happen _in his house,_ either. We'd just be wasting our time if we-"

"You aren't suggesting we just _let _him keep his men in our teams-"

"They won't be 'his men' if we just get on with the tri-"

"Hey!" Tsukauchi cuts in with a clap, "We just said no fighting!"

"It's _his _fault! If we just-"

"_My _fault! You're the one who-"

"This appears to be going nowhere," Nezu sighs, Naomasa just barely hearing him over the other twos' fighting.

"Yeah…" he sighs long with him, "We should probably give them time to calm down."

"Good idea. Coffee?"

Tsukauchi glances at Nighteye and Endeavor, both growing increasingly more aggressive in their yelling, before snorting. "Sure, I here there's a new one opening up down at my department."

* * *

_Name__: Mirai Sasaki/Sir Nighteye_

_Occupation__: Professional Hero/Head of Intelligence and Covert Ops on the Blowtorch case_

_Description__: He is approximately 200 cm, w/ green hair and yellow eyes. He wears glasses, though I do not know if they are part of his hero costume or not. He has several yellow highlights in his hair, and normally wears a suit._

_Quirk__: Foresight - His Quirk allows him to see the future of whoever he touches. He can choose how much he wants to see, though he can go as far as the day the person dies. He is unable to change this future, however, and must stick to this path once he sees it._

_Weakness__: He needs direct skin contact to use his Quirk, and primarily uses thrown stamps to fight with. A set of winter clothes (Thick jacket, mittens, scarves) will stop both his Quirk and the stamps._

_If necessary, allowing him to use his Quirk on me will cause a mental overload, due to my own Quirk's abi_

_**DO NOT LET HIM TOUCH ME**_

* * *

Tarturus is many things.

For most people, it's just another prison. Given, it is the _best _prison, with a quadruple guard patrol route, reinforced cement walls thick enough to give most bomb shelters a run for their money, and without a single recorded breakout since it's conception, but it was still just a prison.

For those unfortunate enough to find themselves on the wrong side of those walls, however, it was something different. Tarturus wasn't a prison, but a glorified death sentence. No visitors, no calls, no chance for probation. Even the most deranged of villains are reduced to histerics when their sentenced to such a place.

For Blowtorch, however, it was a job fair.

He smirks as he struts through the dark halls, a convenient 'blackout' having knocked out most of the prison's power. The only light came from the dull orange of his cigarette whenever he took a puff, not nearly enough to see by.

But that didn't matter. "This is a real favor you're doing for me, Commissioner, you're a real lifesaver." He had a guide, after all.

"Of course! What are friends for, right?" the Commissioner says back, marching through the darkness through memory alone.

Hisashi huffs a laugh. "Friends," wasn't what he'd describe them as. They were probably more along the lines of employer and overeager employee, but as long as he kept supplying him with men, he couldn't care less what he called them.

"So, what kind of job are you doing again?"

"It's like I said," Hisashi starts, fighting down a growl at having to explain this _again, _"I need to… _collect _something that's been taken from me."

"Ah, well if you're looking for a _collector_, than I have just the man for the job! Razorback is a relatively smaller name, but he'll be more than enou-"

"Do you really think I'd come all the way out here for a _shake down,_" Hisashi asks incredulously, "If I wanted someone mauled, I'd go buy a dog. No, I need someone a lot more… _precise_ for this job."

"… Precise you say?" he murmurs, running a hand down his weathered chin. "That could mean a lot of different things, Warkasi-kun. What kind of 'precise' are you looking for?"

Hisashi raises an eyebrow at him, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Let's just say this target will be a lot more _stubborn _than my other jobs."

"Oh ho!" he laughs, eyes glinting dangerously, "I have just the guy for _that _kind of job!"

The Commissioner speeds up, beaming in self satisfaction. Hisashi simply hums to himself, a much too happy tune for the relative dread surrounding him.

The Commissioner stops in front of a random door, though the unique modifications compared to the surrounding cells spoke for just how difficult its captive was to contain."This one came in just last week, took All Might himself getting involved to bring him down."

Hisashi stops too, peering through the thick pane of glass that took up most of the cell door for a few more seconds than he'd have preferred before growling out, "You gonna turn the lights on, or am I doing it?"

"The ligh-Oh!" He jumps, pulling out a small radio, "Give me lights in cell block 89-D"

With a _~thunk~ _the lights both directly inside and outside of the cell turn on, the inky darkness giving way to a much different, but equally oppressive kind of obscurity.

Green. Deep, lake-side-muk green that filled the entire cell. "Wow… thanks for the lights, really helped me see through all of that shit," he drawls, blinking impassively at the cell.

And the cell blinked back.

Hisashi's mouth drops as the sludge filling the cell _moves, _swirling away from the glass and into a single mass at the center of the room. Bubbles begin rippling across the blob, a pair of bulbous, yellow tinged eyes and two rose of startlingly white teeth rising to the surface.

"'The hell are you calling shit, Ass Stain?"

"Like I said," The Commissioner says smuggly, taking in Blowtorch's exceedingly rare look of shock, "I have just the man for the job."

* * *

_Name__: Warkasi Hisashi/Blowtorch_

_Occupation__: Super Villain_

_Description__: __Dad_ _Hisashi is approximately 170 cm tall and incredibly thin. He has messy black hair and green eyes, though they turn orange whenever he uses his Quirk. Years of drug abuse has caused him to look incredibly emaciated, and his numerous fights has given him several scars._

_Quirk__: Fire Breath - He is capable of breathing fire. I do not know the exact upper limits of his temperature, but his casual use is able to cause second and third degree burns from very brief contact. He can reach around 3 meters before the fire dissipates. _

_Weakness__: He is addicted to drugs, alcohol and tobacco. Due to this, he is extremely limited in a physical encounter, unable to sustain his Quirk for longer than a few seconds and unable to run farther than 50 meters. _

_He is also extremely arrogant. Outside of tormenting them, he will outright ignore anyone he deems under him, which is the majority of people. If encountered, I should be able to simply outrun him. If that's not an option, I should make him believe he's won, and aim for the throat once he approaches to punish me._

* * *

"I didn't think it would be this bad," Shigaraki mumbled, idly scratching his neck.

"One never does until they meet them. We were much the same way when we found you," Kurogiri said.

"Really?" he asks, unable to picture himself in such a state.

"It's true, I could hardly believe it myself when-" Kurogiri began, before being cut off by a sharp thunk. Shigaraki glanced over his shoulder. The kid had knocked a chair over. Not that big of a deal, but froym how he seemed to freeze at their gazes, it would probably be a lot worse in Blowtorch's mind. Seeing the blindfold sitting next to it sent his eyes upward, to Izuku's remarkably… unremarkable eyes.

That was… not what he expected. He didn't exactly know what he _was _expecting, but it certainly wasn't normalcy. Weren't people who always wear blindfolds supposed to have something terribly wrong with their eyes? All his games seemed to say so, at least. Maybe he just doesn't get out enou-

"Tumura," Sensei's kind voice rings out, cutting through his thoughts. His eyes turn to see the disfigured face of his master.

"Sensei? When did you get here?" Shigaraki asks, pushing himself into a sitting position- '_When did I get on the ground?' _-and wincing at his slight headache.

"Well, you seemed to have stumbled upon something a few levels too high for you," Sensei says with mirth, having always found amusement in using Shigaraki's video game terminology.

"Those grunts, Sensei? They were barely worthy of cannon fodder. The kid even thanked us when we got here! Warkasi-kun! Come meet… Sensei…" Shigaraki tapers off, finally noticing his surroundings. The barren room he had been in previously was gone, and in its place was the bar's small storage room they had converted into a minimalistic medical ward. "But… When did we get back? I don't remember telling Kurogiri to take us back. Wait-" he scans the room, noticing his missing companion. "-Where's Warkasi-kun?"

"It's like I said, you found something a few levels too high for you."

"But that doesn't make any sense! Nothing they had were even worth the experience! The only reason they got so far was because… of…" he stops, realisation filling him.

"Because of young Warkasi," Sensei finishes for him, laying a kind hand on his shoulder.

"But what did he do? He only had a foresight Quirk! There's no way he-The blindfold." Shigaraki cuts himself off, a second epiphany coming to him.

"A Medusa-type Quirk," Sensei confirms with a nod, "It was quite the ingenious plan, using his father's loose gums and your brash personality against each other. Of course, with a Quirk like his, he probably already knew how it was going to turn out."

"But-I… That fucking brat! I fucking saved him!"

"I know, Tumura, but these things happen. The only thing you can do is learn from them."

"But we put so much into that attack! We had to break through Blowtorch's anti-warp field, we needed to get all of those cannon fodder ready in such little time! We can't just let him get away with wasting it!"

"And what would you do?" Sensei interrupts his tirade, a faint smile on his lips at the prospect of his student guiding himself into a new lesson. "Anything we could do, he would see coming. You saw how easily he dispatched your first attempt… Well, no you didn't, but you can imagine it."

"We can't just let him go though!"

"You are correct, we can't let him get away with it. But we'll need something a little stronger than common street thugs to go for a rematch."

A silence fills the room, Sensei's grin spreading wider as his student puts the pieces together. "We'll need a team."

"Almost certainly."

"They'll need to be smart, people who could adapt to whatever Warkasi could throw at them. And they'll need to be fast enough to get him before the heroes get there. But he could just call them to get there before us… "

"So they'll need to be ready for a fight."

"We'll need heavy hitters," Tumura ignores the comment, too caught up in his own tirade to hear him. "That Muscular guy, maybe? He's certainly been on the news enough times to prove himself."

All for One smiles, rising from the bedside. He'll be the first to admit he didn't raise Tumura right, especially if he wanted him to take his place in the future. Too much power and too little failure make for a mindframe, he now knows. But now, his student had lost. Not only that, but had been humiliated, having played right into someones hands.

The mad muttering fades as Sensei makes his way to his room, and he hears a brief scrabbling of movement as Shigaraki throws himself into whatever plan he made. Yes, despite how much trouble this 'Warkasi' will assuredly cause them, he had no doubt that this hiccup will be good for his pupil.

"Sensei," his doctor greets as he lowers himself back into his bed.

"Doctor," he responds, shifting his neck brace into the proper place for the tubes to attach. "Would you mind calling Giran when you get a moment, I believe young Tumura will be needing his services soon."

"Of course," the doctor replies. Despite how Sensei fraised it, he knew better than to assume it was a friendly request.

"Oh, and I'd like to move up the Nomu project," he continues off handedly, getting a surprised look from the man.

"But… isn't All Might halfway across the world right now?"

"Yes, he is. But I have a different target in mind." The room goes into silence. An uncomfortable one, for the doctor, but a much more productive one for Sensei.

'_You have much to learn, young Tumura,'_ he thinks as the doctor leaves the room, '_But perhaps young Warkasi may help you with that.'_

* * *

_Name__: Shigaraki Tomura_

_Occupation__: Figure head of the League of Villains_

_Description__: Shigaraki is approximately 180 cm tall, and is incredibly thin. He has light blue hair and red eyes. He is very pale, and has several scars across the front of his neck._

_Quirk__: Decay - Anything he touches with all five of his fingers will begin decaying, as if its time is being rapidly accelerated. The rate of decay is around 3 cubic meters of material every second, although organic materials seem to decay much slower._

_Weakness__: His Quirk requires all five fingers to touch the same object. If the material it is made of is small enough, such as thread in clothes, it is counted as one object. Larger items, however, such as chainmail and scalemail, are able to block his Quirk entirely._

_If I can't get any chain or scalemail, a patchwork blanket will serve just as well._

* * *

"_MAKE IT STOP!" one of Hisashi's men screams, reaching out for some savior that would never come._

_Izuku doesn't know his name. He doesn't know the actual names of most of the people he saw, but he knows what they did. Just for Blowtorch to even consider letting you join his gang, you need to be the worst of the worst. The things he's done, the people he's hurt. Izuku logically knows that he deserves every second of this agony for the crimes he's committed._

"_ANYONE! PLEASE!" That thought does little to quash the bile rising in the back of his throat, or dampen Hisashi's voice screaming 'WHAT DID YOU DO?!' echoing from his poorly repressed memories, nor sooth the way his hands _sear _with some phantom heat._

_Izuku's shaking badly enough that every step he takes threatens to be his last. His winding path helps him avoid his more violent victims, but it easily triples the distance between him and the freedom he so desperately chases._

_But he doesn't stop. He ignores the agonized cries that battered him from all sides, fights through his mind's incessant demands to just _stop _and let himself break. He keeps going, each step towards the door raising some strange feeling within him, something he belatedly realizes was hope. Each step backwards, to avoid thrashing villains or destroyed furniture, driving hot nails into that feeling._

_And then he was out._

_He's bombarded at all sides by _things_. He smells the freshly cut grass, somehow both cleaner and dirtier than anything he'd find behind him. He feels a chilly autumn breeze, a comfortable cold spreading through him. He hears the busy city somewhere in the distance._

_He knows he doesn't deserve this._

_It's all so much more _real _when he actually does it. It's easy to scar all of those people in his Quirk, when he knows he can close his eyes and wake up days, even months before it will ever matter. It's easy to ignore the screams when he can still hear them talking outside his door. Easier to _k̷͖̔i̵̡̧̥̍l̴̲̂̌͜l̴̨̢̝̊ _when it never actually happens._

_Belatedly, he realizes he finally fell, several days of Hisashi forgetting to feed him making his puking a lot less messy than it could have been. He doesn't know how far away he got before he stopped, but he knows his dad won't go after him himself. Not after someone hurt that many of his men._

'N̸̛͍͙͋o̷͖͐t̵̢̼͜͠͝ ̷̗̠͆̀͜͝a̵̯̰̦̽̚͝f̶͖͓͑̾̒t̵̤̖̣͂e̴͚͗̒r̶̨͚̥̈ ̴̫̍͛_ȳ̵̳̭͇͘o̸̹̣͌̂͝ṳ̴͍̠͒̐͌_ ̶̗́h̶̗͊̏̕u̶̜̩͊̀̈́r̷̛̭̪͎̈̕t̸̡͂ ̶̹͝t̷͇̭͊͐̓h̷̳̞̟͛̇ä̵̢̤͓́̆̓t̵̻̝̭̾ ̸̛̗̳̓m̴̹͗̀á̴̰͠ñ̸̳̂ỳ̷̨_.'_

_His body is desperately trying to expel whatever poison is causing this pain, the simple genetic instincts blissfully unaware of the very real threat of mental toxins. Too desperate, because, despite the flow of the admittedly puny contents of his stomach stopping, his painful heaving only redoubles in effort. He… he couldn't _breathe. _He's hurting and _they're _hurting and it's _his _fault and he should have stayed because _they didn't deserve that _and it would have been easier to just give up and-and he couldn't-_

* * *

Izuku has learned to wake up quietly years ago.

It's ingrained at this point. Despite his new found freedom, and the terrible hotel he's staying making him waking anyone up unlikely, he still can't bring himself to make any noise. Hisashi doesn't like to be bothered by his men complaining about his crying.

It doesn't make it any easier though. Each silent, gasping sobs that rack his too-small body brings a scream or whimper clawing up his throat, forcing Izuku to swallow back the noise lest face his father's literal burning anger.

He… he needs a distraction. Something to pull his mind away from… _that_. He should probably go out and eat something but… Dad doesn't like it when people see him like this. He doesn't want anyone seeing what a crybaby his son is and if-

'_I'm out,' _Izuku cuts that line of thought off, '_It doesn't matter who sees me cry because I'm out and I will _never _go back to that place again.'_

… Maybe he should hold off on eating, though. Wait a little while for the broiling self disgust rising inside of him to simmer down.

It's a TV day then. Choking down his tears, he rises from the old, slightly stained bed and grabs the remote.

Hisashi, for all of his raging addiction and violent tendencies, ran a strict ship. A _very _strict ship, micromanaging every detail in his manor to try and cut off any means of escape for Izuku.

Of course, having such a rigid schedule was very much _not _a good idea when it came to fighting a foresight Quirk. Izuku could easily go months ahead before losing any accuracy, and still be coherent enough to plan out any of Hisashi's spring of the moment jobs.

But it was different out here. People would just… _do _things. There were no rules for them to follow, no deadlines to meet, no schedules to keep. They just decided they wanted to do something and _went_. Want to go out for dinner? Sure, why not? Want to go buy some clothes? Go right ahead, there's no dress code.

And it went even further than that. Go out for dinner? Where are you going? _When _are you going? Do you want to take someone with you? Are you going anywhere after the fact? A single spur of the moment decision cause a hundred new possibilities, and each of _those _possibilities cause a hundred _more _to happen. Izuku could barely make it three days before pushing himself to the brink of a coma.

Which is where the TV comes in.

Izuku's newfound freedom crippled his Quirk, but in a world driven by controversy, three measly days become a goldmine of information.

Villain reports, hero interviews, life networks. Entire channels dedicated to _discussing things that happened hours earlier._ "The News," they called it, and, even with only two short days of freedom, he can already tell that was his favorite station by far.

And the best part about TV, Izuku thinks, is that if one channel doesn't give him what he wants, there's a hundred more out there that _will_.

"We send off the newest-"

_~click~_

"-eroes dangerous? Find out more a-"

_~click~_

"Ten dead after last night-"

_~click~_

"-newest hero debuted today…"

Izuku blinked, flipping back a channel to find an overtly clean news reporter standing in front of what looks like a war zone.

"-termath of a deadly villain attack killed three pro heroes and seven civilians. Truly, it's a miracle the fatality count is so low…"

Izuku snorts at this; ten dead and it's a miracle. He didn't even need his Quirk to see someone getting fired for that line. Even _he _could do better than tha-

His teeth clack together, scarred hands tightening over the remote. '_I'm not getting involved, I'm not getting involved, I'm _not _getting-'_

"**-**nterview wiTH THE HEROES WH**O TOOK DOWN THE VILLAIN-**"

Izuku winced, scrambling to turn the TV off. He forces his grip to loosen off of the volume button and his mind to calm. He… doesn't know where that line of thought came from. Really, most wanted man in Japan and thinking of going off to fight a supervillain. He might as well turn himself in now!

… He _could _do better, though. Probably even limit injuries to purely superficial ones as well, if he wanted.

He won't, though. Can't risk getting caught.… Maybe he can watch that broadcast a few more times before calling it a day. Probably give the villain an entry in his notebooks. In case Hisashi decides to recruit him, of course.

* * *

_Name__: Izuku __Warka __Midoriya_

_Occupation__: N/A_

_Description__: I am approximately 140 cm, 35 kg, with dark green hair and green eyes. I have __apparently_ _have freckles, and am very underweight for my age. I have several burn scars across my body, but mostly focused on my hands._

_Quirk__: Observable Prescience - If I open my eyes, I am able to live through life at an increased speed, going days, and even months ahead within the span of a few minutes. I must keep my eyes open through this process, though I don't have any drawbacks from keeping my eyes open for prolonged periods of time while using my Quirk._

_I must live through whatever happens before the point I want to see, however, and am unable to jump from one point to the next. The closest I can get is jumping from one point in the future back to where I started, though that is normally used to recheck a possible future._

_Weakness__: I have several major weaknesses._

_The most obvious one is my size. I am far smaller than a normal 13 year old should be, due to lacking proper nutrition for so long. This means that I will always be physically weaker than almost anyone I encounter._

_My second and much less obvious weakness is Quirk overuse. Overuse of my Quirk can cause nosebleeds, migraines, and, in extreme cases, short term comas. While isolated, I can use my Quirk however I want, without fear of crippling myself in front of an enemy. In a fight, however, where it is far too chaotic to accurately predict anything before hand, I am at a severe disadvantage. Due to how many possibilities that happen in fights, I can't predict what will happen in them beforehand, and can only get a general idea of the end result of it. In order to win fights, I have to repeatedly go back and forth in my Quirk in order to find the right path to winning._

_In conclusion, my biggest weakness will be direct confrontations. I should avoid any physical fights, and instead go for misdirection and distraction for as long as it takes to escape the situation. If I can't escape, I should stack the fight as much in my favor as possible before the fight, and use my surroundings as much as possible in order to avoid any direct skirmishes._

_And fire_

_I should also avoid fire._


End file.
